Nadia Claudelands Whore ❤️❤️

About Wellington

So, she orders a whiskey, neat—ballsyy, right? I’m like, “Girl, you’re trouble.” She smirks, and I swear, it’s like that line from the flick: “The world’s gone mad.” She’s chaos incarnate, dahling! Tips me a crumpled twenty, smells like cheap perfume and regret. I’m pissed—why’s she gotta flaunt it? But also, kinda lovin’ it—whore’s got guts! Little known fact: back in the day, whores ran bars in secret. Yup, Prohibition times—servin’ hooch, dodgin’ cops. This chick? She’s that legacy, reborn.

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So, I’m pedaling like a madman, and then BAM! I hit a pothole. My bike goes sideways, and I’m almost eating pavement. I’m cursing like a sailor. “What’s up with these roads?” I mean, come on, Claudelands! Fix your streets!

Hamilton's Claudelands through the years